


Amethustos (Working Title)

by Nightzilla333



Category: Original Work
Genre: End of the World, Fae Court, Gen, Leviathans, Magic, Riders Faction, Slavery, more to be added - Freeform, mythological creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:35:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightzilla333/pseuds/Nightzilla333
Summary: When Beryl, a human slave, bonds to a dragon she has to fight for her life and prove her worth to her ex-masters.When Fern, Beryl's friend, discovers that she's half-fae she has to figure out how to stop extremely agressive gods from controlling a portion of the world.When Johnny, a house slave, gets stranded in the ocean he has to figure out to survive with the help of one of the deadliest creatures in the ocean.When Mariska, a pleasure slave, gets bought by the fallen archangel and current ruler of all that is demonic she has to figure out how to deal with the emotionless being of power.When Gluttony, jealous of his brothers success, touches a Leviathan he affects the hive mind causing them all to go into a feeding frenzy. It's up to the others to figure out how to unite the world to stop the Leviathans.Summary bound to change as I write more.Beta read by The_Musketeers_29





	1. Beryl

The sun beat hard onto the slaves’ backs, the rows and rows of grape vines doing little to shelter them from the hard heat. Beryl worked alongside her fellow slaves, sweat beading down her face. A loose cotton shirt clung to her body, soaked through, and the brown pants she wore were rolled up past her knees. Her toes dug into the dirt as she picked, the soft _plop_ of the grapes landing in the basket provided just another noise to add the background of buzzing from the everyday life. Sighing, Beryl wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, the cool metal of her arm providing small relief from the heat.

“Don’t do that.”

Beryl didn’t jump, but glanced at her friend. Fern flashed her a cheery smile, and grabbed Beryl’s metal arm. “Don’t do that. The last time you did that your arm rusted and you were miserable.”

“It was raining!” Beryl laughed.

“Excuses, excuses.” Fern flapped her hand in Beryl’s direction.

“My arm was defective!”

“You couldn’t get anything done! And you were horrible to be around. Worse than Johnny when he doesn’t get enough sleep.”

“It hurt because the wires rusted, and Johnny can’t talk.”

“Johnny has wicked aim.” Fern picked up her full basket and propped it on her hip. “Don’t use your arm to mop up sweat. I don’t care how good the regulating charm feels against your skin, don’t do it.” With that said the pretty girl turned on her heel and marched away to do empty her basket. Beryl smiled at her friend’s retreating form and rolled her eyes.

Beryl pulled her hair away from her face and let it fall down her back. She hummed, making a small tune with her voice and the sound of grapes dropping into the basket. There was a commotion at the front gates that drew her attention briefly, but she paid it no mind. She let herself get lost in the work, the smooth skin of the grapes rolling around between her fingers. Fern bumped into her, letting Beryl know that she had returned, and the grape that Beryl was rolling between her fingers dropped to the ground. “Fern.” Beryl groaned and bent down, her spine cracking. “Did you see where it rolled to?” She asked.

“No. Maybe it went under the vine.”

Beryl made a noise of disgust and dropped to her knees. “I swear to all that is good in this world that if I get dirt in my knee _you’re_ the one who cleans my leg.” She muttered to her friend.

Fern snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time that you threatened that, and it probably won’t be the last. Also, not my fault you decided to play with the grapes.”

Beryl made another disgusted noise, and placed her head against the ground. “I can’t see it. But, it does look like there’s a weed under it.” Beryl hummed. “Should I pull it?”

“Uh, duh. It could kill the plant. And that would be your fault. And then you would get punished. And then you’d be useless, increasing the workload for the rest of us.”

“Jeez, Fern. No need to be so mean.”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions you already know the answer to.” Fern tossed her black hair behind her shoulder.

Beryl rolled her eyes. The gold glint of her arm shined through the leaves of the plant, and she grasped the weed by the base, wrapping the leaves around her hand. With a grunt and her arm whirring, Beryl pulled. The ground gave away and she fell backwards.

She moaned and held up the plant. “I’ve never seen this before.” The plant had broad leaves; one edge smooth, the other serrated. It was a deep green, but in certain light more colours shone through. There was no flower, nor stem for one, and the leaves were unusually warm. The root was bulbous, barbed, and excreted a sweet stench.

Fern leaned down so she was eye level with the root her friend was holding up. “Neither have I.” The pretty girl frowned. “I’m going to go grab one of the guards. They’ll probably have an idea what it is.” She stood back up. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Then Fern was off, a brisk jog bringing her out of Beryl’s vision.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Beryl rocked her head back and forth, a mocking whine tainting her voice. The sunburnt girl sighed, and brought the root up closer to her face. “This is so weird.” Her breath brushed along the root, making it sway slightly. The barbs on the root bristled and splayed. With a squelch and a puff of swirling, pale pink and sickly seafoam green air, the sweet stench grew stronger and the cloud of gas swarmed over Beryl.

She started to cough, a hacking noise leaving her body. The weed fell from her grasp and rolled in the dirt, and Beryl kept hacking. “Ugh,” Beryl spat into the dirt, trying to clear the foul taste from her mouth. “Nasty.”

“Beryl!”

Beryl jumped, a gasp mingling with a cough. Fern helped her friend stand, and she rubbed the coughing girl’s back. “You okay?”

The witch guard stopped short, nose wrinkling and lips stretching back. “Kick it over here.” Fern and Beryl looked over at the guard. “Now.” The witch hissed, and the two slaves tensed as the guard drew in a breath. A sulphur copper mix smell filled the air, and Fern nodded. She kicked the weed over to the guard, and another puff of gas escaped the root and left a streak of mixed colour in the air. The witch drew power from the Ley line, and the gas was contained in a bright pink bubble.

Both slave girls averted their eyes. “What… what is it?” Fern asked as the guard drew the bubble close to her.

“Fern, step away from Beryl. Now.”

Fern nodded and let go of her friend.

“Beryl, go inside. Bathe. You need to get that stench off you now.”

“What is it?” Beryl asked.

The witch glared at the slave girl who had talked back. “Excuse me?”

“What kind of root is it?”

“Is this really important?”

“Well… Fern asked a question. And I need to know what it is to make sure the plant isn’t harmed.”

The witch snarled under her breath. “The literal translation and common name is Barbed Dragon Root.”

Beryl nodded. “Okay.” The awkward silence that followed was only broken by the popping noise that left Fern’s mouth. Beryl startled, and flailed her arms. “Right… I’ll go do that now.” She took off, darting between the rows of grape vines and flapping her hand towards the calls from other slaves. As she drew closer to the front gates, a roar, screams, and gasps drew her attention: charging at her was a dragon in different shades of purple.

The beast jumped at her, and Beryl reacted. She darted under the jumping beast, a shrill scream leaving her mouth. She ran towards the front gate, eyes wide. A gasp left her mouth as her foot landed wrong and she fell. She rolled onto her back, hair fanning out around her head. Her eyes seemed to grow even wider as the dragon pounced onto her, and Beryl screamed again, her arms flying up to cover her face. She was pinned under the heavy body of the purple beast, and the beast hissed into her face. Beryl whimpered, and her bladder released. The dragon’s open jaw came closer and closer, sparks flying.

The slave dropped her flesh arm to the ground, away from the angry beast, and shoved her metal arm into the gaping maw as it snapped shut. She screamed as the wires were punctured and the fans in her arm whirred. She screamed, tears streaming down her face, and her bladder emptied. The metal hand sparked, and another scream erupted as she felt the metal start to crumple under the force of the dragons bite. Beryl’s flesh arm came up and triggered the emergency release mechanism. Her legs scrambled to push her out from under the beast’s body, and she choked out a sob of relief as the tortured wires pulled away from her nerves.

When she was far enough away from the dragon she stood on shaky legs. She drew in a breath and stared at the purple beast in horror as the metal arm was crushed in its jaw. The dragon tossed the ruined arm to the side, head lowered and the massive wings half opened, making itself bigger. Beryl stared at the dragon, and the dragon stared back. The purple beast’s nostrils filled with the scent of the air, and, as if possessed, the beast stopped. The defensive stance melted away, ears perking up.

Beryl remained frozen, eyes locked with the dragons as the monster walked towards her. Her breath caught in her throat as the dragon touched her head with its forehead. She whimpered as she smelt smoke leaving the beast's nostrils. A single thought entered her fear entrenched mind.

_Amethustos_.

Beryl’s legs gave out, and she cried freely. Through blurry eyes she could see her parents and Fern and the rest of the field slaves gather around. The guards were whispering. A group of strangers dressed in leathers, furs, and metal restraining mounts of various creatures talked amongst each other. The dragon – Amethustos, her mind supplied – curled around the weeping girl. Distantly, she heard the beast roar as a purple leather wing sheltered her from the gazes of the others.

***

Beryl awoke slowly, her limbs heavy and her mouth dry. She groaned softly, and carefully raised herself until she was sitting. Her back rested against the wall, and she groaned again. On her right side was a small table, and on that table was a single glass of water. She moved to grab it, and frowned when she couldn’t grab the glass. Her right arm was crushed between the jaws of a dragon, and the left was currently restricted by an I.V. line. “Hello?” She rasped out. The curtain separating her room from the waiting room was swept aside, and the healer walked in.

Like most of the staff that worked around slaves, the healer was a witch. She was a strong looking woman, and had the look of someone who went through many wars. However, her skin was clear of any marks, including the marks of everyday life. In all the times Beryl had been sent to the healer the slave had never seen the healer smile once, and this time was not different.

Beside the healer was one of the strangers that arrived with the dragon. He was a gruff looking man, all frowns and coarse beard. He too, looked as if he had been through many wars, and seemed to have the scars to prove it.

“How do you feel?”

“Head’s fuzzy. Thirsty. Everything is kind of numb.”

The healer nodded, and walked over to the I.V. drip. “Your head is fuzzy because of the sedatives. Logan,” the healer addressed the stranger, “give the girl some water.”

The man nodded. His strides seemed to be full of purpose, even for walking the short distance. He held the glass to Beryl’s lips, letting the exhausted girl drink. Occasionally he would pull back the glass to stop Beryl from drinking too much and upsetting her stomach. When the glass was finally empty, he spoke.

“Do you understand what had happened to you earlier?”

Beryl closed her eyes and shook her head, images of the attack flooding her mind. Her lips thinned, and she shook her head. “No.” She managed to whisper.

Logan nodded. “Figured as much. You’ve been chosen. The dragon that attacked you has chosen you to be its Rider.”

“Is that why it stopped attacking? Why did it attack?”

Logan tossed back his head and started to laugh.

“Why did it attack me?” Beryl repeated, glaring at the laughing man.

“We found traces of Barbed Dragon Root gas on you.” The healer spoke up, and then promptly removed the I.V. from Beryl’s arm. She blinked, watching the length of the line being pulled from her arm in slight surprise.

“Yeah. I found one under one of the grape vines.”

“Barbed Dragon Root gas makes dragons extremely aggressive.”

Beryl stayed silent, eye cast towards the white cotton blankets. Dimly, she realised that she wasn’t wearing a top, and noticed bandages wrapped around her chest and stump. “So I was attacked because of a plant.” She muttered to herself.

“The dragon stopped the attack because you pissed yourself. Twice.” Logan sounded smug.

Beryl’s eyes locked with Logan’s, and her gaze hardened. “Do you blame me? I was pinned under a fucking dragon! It practically ripped my arm off! Of course I pissed myself! I was scared and in pain! I would be more surprised if I didn’t piss myself!” Her voice steadily rose as she spoke until she was yelling.

Logan raised a brow. “You enjoy talking back for a slave.”

Beryl glared. “You’ll have to excuse me for not giving a damn about what you have to say, _sir_.” Beryl’s body tensed, as if she was expecting to be hit.

Logan laughed again. “You’ve got guts. That’ll take you far.” He clapped his hands. “Get dressed. Meet me outside.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

Logan didn’t answer, he just pushed aside the curtain in the doorway, and left the room. A moment later Beryl heard the door to the clinic open and close. The healer followed Logan soon after, leaving Beryl alone in the room. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and stood. She was naked, and her metal leg was scrubbed clean. Her entire body was scrubbed clean, she assumed. On shaky legs Beryl made her way over to the closet and picked up a new set of slave clothes. She pulled them on and pinned the right sleeve up. The pants remained unrolled, and her feet remained bare. She pulled her hair out from the collar of the shirt and let it fall down her back.

Outside the sun shone brightly, and Beryl blinked rapidly. Logan stood alongside the rest of strangers, holding onto a two legged dragon covered in feathers and shades of brown and grey. He hadn’t noticed Beryl yet, but the purple dragon that attacked her had. The beast squawked happily, and struggled against the restraints holding it back. The strangers looked towards Beryl, and Logan waved the slave over. “Good, you’re here.” Logan said once Beryl had joined the group. One of the strangers sneered at the slave, and the Pegasus they were stroking whinnied. The purple dragon stretched its neck out towards Beryl and whined. “Well?” Logan raised an eyebrow at Beryl.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to touch him? That’s what he wants.”

“Do I have to?” Beryl asked, slightly whining.

“Oh, just do it girl.” The stranger who sneered at Beryl growled out. She grabbed the slaves hand pressed it against the purple dragon’s snout, and the excited beast calmed down.

“There. I touched it. Now let me go.”

The stranger dropped Beryl’s wrist, and pulled out a cloth. They wiped their hands and dropped the cloth on the ground, as if it offended them. Beryl glared at the Pegasus Rider, her hand rubbing the snout of the dragon.

“So, what’s his name?” Logan probed.

“How should I know?” Beryl snapped, and the dragon she was petting growled.

“When he touched your third eye to his third eye he told you what his name is.” Logan chuckled.

Beryl frowned, and the dragon nuzzled her. “I don’t really remember a lot. I was kinda numb by the time everything was done.” She stared at the happy dragon. The dragon stared back, ears perked up. It mrrped, looking at her with bright eyes. He seemed to be encouraging her. “Amethustos?” Beryl cautioned. The dragon chirped happily. “Amethustos.” She solidified. “His name is Amethustos.”

“Perfect!” Logan boomed. “Now, we just have to go to talk to your master, and we will be all good.” He sounded awkward, unsure if he actually knew what he was doing. The rest of the group of strangers glanced at each other, and a couple laughed. Beryl looked around the group, confused.

“What’s happening?”

“Well, we’re taking you with us, of course!”

“Why? Does your group need slaves or something at… wherever you lot go?”

The group of strangers laughed. “No, no, nothing like that,” Logan chuckled. “We already have slaves at the Faction. I told you that you’ve been chosen right?”

“Chosen for what?”

“Well, to be a Guardian of course!”

“What, exactly, is a Guardian?”

Logan hummed. “There’s no easy way to say this so your mind would comprehend it. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Beryl frowned at the slight to her as the rest of the Guardians snickered. Amethustos nuzzled into her hand, and she removed it from the snout of the dragon after giving it one last scratch. “We’ve wasted enough time. Come…” Logan stared at the slave girl.

“Beryl,” she supplied.

“Yes. That. The sooner we talk to your master, the sooner we can leave.” Logan turned on his heel and walked away, and the rest of the Guardians surged forward, pushing Beryl to follow him.

“What about my family? My friends? My things?” Beryl stumbled slightly as she was pushed, and Amethustos propped himself under her stump, holding her up. She hissed as the stump was touched, nerves firing off red hot pain. She shoved the dragon away, and Amethustos whined.

“You can say goodbye to them after we get you.”

“My things?” Beryl pressed.

“New recruits aren’t allowed to bring anything with them.” The Pegasus Rider answered for Logan, a small smirk on her face.

Beryl frowned again, and had to jog to keep up with the taller people around her. As one unit the group made their way over to the main house. They passed by some of the house slaves doing the chores they were assigned. Some waved at Beryl, and she gave them a small smile. _I wonder if I’ll see Johnny._ Beryl thought. _Doubtful, he works with numbers and shit. There would be no reason for him to be outside_. Her frown deepened, and she sighed.

The group came to a stop outside the front doors, and Beryl was pushed up to the front, next to Logan. She lowered her head in front of her master. The ogre stood there with his wife, another ogre, and his bastard child, the half-ogre monstrosity named V’ronka. V’ronka was born with bright, blinding yellow hair, grungy green skin, and the unfortunate face of a pig. “Master J’nson, I request your approval to remove the slave standing before you from the grounds to become a Guardian.” Logan cleared his throat. “The dragon that was brought here to be bonded to V’ronka J’nson chose her instead.”

Master J’nson rubbed his chin and hummed. “I’m a reasonable man, Guardian, so I will allow it.” Logan nodded his head in thanks, “However,” Master J’nson continued, “I would require compensation for not only the loss of a slave, but for the slight of having your group decide to recruit a slave instead of my daughter.”

“What?” V’ronka made a noise that combined a snort and a shriek. “That’s _my_ dragon. Daddy, that’s mine! Make them give it back!” V’ronka stomped her foot and snorted.

“Darling, pumpkin, sweetheart, we can’t make them give you the dragon.”

“Not unless the bonded Guardian dies, of course.” The Pegasus Rider snorted out.

No sooner had the Pegasus Rider spoken did V’ronka scream in rage and jump at Beryl. The slave girl stared in shock and frozen fear as the half-ogre charged, and the group of Guardians held their breath. Some moved out of the way as the scent of brimstone washed over the area. There was a snick, like a lighter being ignited, and then Beryl was surrounded by flame. Beryl’s linen wrapping around her arms and cotton clothes caught fire, and the charging half-ogre skidded to a stop, falling onto her rear and sliding under the flames.

The flames died out, and the dragon wrapped around the now naked girl, growling and smoke streaming from its nostrils. Beryl didn’t even have time to scream, and blinked in shock. “I wouldn’t have done that,” Logan chuckled, “If you want to get rid of the Guardian, you have to do it when the bonded beast isn’t around.” The man slipped off his cloak and handed it to Beryl. The naked girl wrapped the fur cloak around her shoulders, hissed as the rubbed raw nerves of her stump brushed against the fur, and fastened the cloak closed.

“Now, Master J’nson, since we have been given your blessing to remove this slave from the grounds, I request that you keep your daughter from attacking one of our recruits, and grant us leave from the grounds. Furthermore, I will need you to sign these papers,” Logan reached into the front pocket of his swirly green waistcoat and pulled out a folded stack of papers. “Slave girl.”

“Beryl. My name is _Beryl_. It’s not hard to remember.” The slave snapped and glared at Logan.

The slap came hard and fast, and Beryl’s head snapped to the side. The dragon wrapped around Beryl growled low in its throat, and Logan’s feathered beast growled in response. “I won’t tolerate lip from some whelp that just so happened to be bonded to a beast she wasn’t supposed to. You got away with it once, but you sure as shit ain’t going to get away with it again.” His hand snaked out, a movement almost too fast to be tracked by the human eye, and gripped Beryl’s chin and forced her to look at him. “Do I make myself clear?”

Beryl glared at the man who held her freedom in a stack of papers. He squeezed her chin, clearly wanting a response, and the girl managed to ground out a “yes sir.” Logan nodded and drew back his hand. “Go get a new set of clothes while Master J’nson and I get settled here. Be quick, this won’t take long.”

The girl nodded, and shoved at the dragon wrapped around her. _This wouldn’t be the first time these people saw me naked,_ she thought, _but it is the last!_ Beryl ran past the crowds of workers as fast she could, not a care in the world if the other slaves saw her naked, wearing a strange man’s fur cloak around her shoulders. Dimly, she realised that the purple dragon was bounding along behind her, and the people were getting out of her way.

She came across Fern first, having to cut through the vineyard in order to get to the communal housing. Beryl stopped short, and Fern raised a delicate looking brow as she glanced up and down her naked friend’s body. “No time to explain. I’m leaving. Like, I’m free. The group that arrived is taking me with them. I was sent to get more clothes. I figured I could also use this time as a chance to say goodbye.”

“So much for having no time to explain.” Fern pulled Beryl into a tight hug. It was quickly returned, and then Fern shoved her friend away. “Go,” she said with a nod of her head, “say goodbye to your parents. I’ll tell Johnny for you.”

“Thanks.” Beryl smiled and darted in for another quick hug, and pressed a kiss to Fern’s cheek. “Thanks.” She said again, and took off running again. “Don’t get into any trouble, you hear me!” Beryl tossed over her shoulder as she ran.

Fern snorted and shook her head, smiling softly, and went back to picking grapes.

***

Word spread through the slave grape vine at a fast pace, and by the time Beryl had gotten to see her parents they already had a new set of clothes out for her. They hugged her tight and kissed her on her forehead. Beryl hugged her parents tightly, tears squeezing from her eyes and streaming down her face. A quick prayer was whispered into the girl’s forehead, one that was spread amongst the human population to an unknown, unnamed god. It was a prayer for strength and good luck. It was a prayer of guidance. _It was a wish, more than anything_ , and everyone knew it.


	2. Beryl

“We’re here.”

Beryl started, glancing at the back of Logan’s head. The man had been quiet for the entire flight to the Guardian base, no matter how much Beryl had poked and prodded. The double saddle that she sat on made her rear sore, and her thighs felt raw. Amethustos was tethered to Logan’s dragon, and every once in awhile the purple dragon would squawk and chirp as it followed behind.

The two dragons began their decent, and the small squadron followed them in suit. They landed in a giant swirl of dust. Handlers for the beasts rushed forward and took the reins from the Riders. Logan slipped off of his dragon, and offered his arm to Beryl. The ex-slave took the offered arm and slid off, groaning in relief as the sore muscles stretched and various parts of her body cracked.

“This way.” Logan marched off, not waiting for Beryl. The girl ran after him, her bare feet slapping on the ground. He led her to a secluded building, one that was surrounded by trees. Beryl pulled up short to stand beside Logan, and he shoved her toward the windowless door. She stumbled, and looked back at the gruff man. “Go on.” Logan grumbled and pulled out a rolled piece of paper, and with a swish of his hand he had it lit. “What are you waiting for?”

“What’s that?” Beryl nodded her head at the piece of paper.

Logan took a drag off of the paper. “It’s a cigarette.” Beryl tilted her head, one eyebrow raised. “It’s full of aconite. It helps me relax.” He took another drag of the cigarette and waved his hand towards door. “Go. I’ll be here when you get out.”

The inside of the building was a single room. On one pillar was a single shower head, and under the shower head was a small stool. There was no light fixtures in the room, and the only way light entered the room came from the small windows that lined the top of the walls. There was a single electric socket in the wall. Opposite from where Beryl stood was a single, wooden door. Cautious, Beryl picked her way over to the door and knocked twice.

“Come in.”

The door squeaked as Beryl pushed it open. “Uh, hi?” Beryl said as she stepped in.

“You’re the new recruit?” The man at the desk glanced up at Beryl over his spectacles. When she nodded he stood. The man brushed passed her and went back into the room set up for murder. She followed the man back into the murder room. “Take off your clothes and move the stool over to the socket.” Beryl nodded and did as she was told. “Sit and turn around.” She straddled the stool and faced the wall. The pressed himself up along her back, and pulled her hair away from her front, baring her breasts. “Plug this in.”

The buzz of the hair clippers made Beryl jump, and she quickly put her hand on the side of the stool to steady herself. The passes over her scalp led to a weight being lifted off of her head, and with a few minutes the humming of the clippers was turned off. “How’s that feel?”

“Weird.” Beryl shook her head back and forth. “It’s so light now.”

The man laughed. “Go take a shower. I’ll be back with some new clothes.” She nodded her head, giggling slightly with each movement of her head.

Beryl yelped when the cold water hit her front. The tiny pinpricks of cold water slip down her body, and, shivering, she scrubbed. There was no soap to truly clean herself, nor was there shampoo or conditioner.  _ Not that I need it _ , Beryl thought. Quickly, rubbing hard enough that her skin turned red, Beryl finished rinsing her body. The knob squeaked as she turned off the water, and she wrapped her arms around her body.

The man hadn’t returned from the office yet, so Beryl stood, icy water dripping off of her chin. “Excuse me? Sir?” Beryl called out, not wanting to go to the office and risk dripping water onto the carpet or potentially ruining the wood of the doorframe. “Can I get a towel? Or those clothes you mentioned?”

The door to the office opened quickly, the door bouncing against the wall as it swung. The man with spectacles carried the clothes draped over his arm, and he smiled at the shivering girl. “Sorry, sorry. I had to go get some paperwork ready.” The man stretched out his arm, a vague gesture for Beryl to take the clothes and get dressed. The girl took the gesture for what it meant and dressed quickly, frowning at the feeling of clothes sticking to her skin and gathering the left over moisture. The pants and tank top were not the cotton she was used to, but they were soft against her skin. The entire outfit was black, and clung to her body. She was given no shoes.

“Right this way.” The man said, and led Beryl back to the office. She blinked until her eyes adjusted to the bright light after the dimness of the not-murder-murder-room. He gestured to a chair in front of the desk, and sat in the one behind it. “So,” he said as Beryl sat down, “I just need you to answer a few questions before I can send you back to Logan. Just to figure out where you stand among the other recruits.”

“Okay.” Beryl nodded.

“Name?”

“Beryl Shepard.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Species?”

“Isn’t that kind of obvious?”

“Fair enough. Do you know how to fight?”

“No.”

“Can you use magic?”

“As far as I know, I’m full human, so.” The scratching of the pen against paper stopped, and Beryl sighed. “No, I can’t use magic.”

“And I’m just going to mark this down as ‘none’. Slaves don’t get an education.”

“I can read, write, and do basic math.”

“You can?” The man sounded surprised, and pushed his glasses up.

“Yes. All the slaves at the vineyard I came from have basic education. I thought it was a standard thing.”

“Very few slaves have an education. It’s usually only pleasure slaves. Or slaves from high profit facilities.”

“You can read and write.” Beryl crossed her arm under her breasts, an eyebrow raised.

“I was a transfer slave. I was originally pleasure. One of my clients attacked me and left me with scars.”

A red hot heat ran up Beryl’s face, and she looked at her feet. “Sorry.” She muttered.

“It’s no problem. You didn’t know.”

“Are we done here?”

“What size of arm and leg do you have?”

“Size seven for the arm. I think it’s the same for my leg. I’ve had to get the arm replaced more than my leg.”

The man nodded and made another scratch on the paper. “Who brought you in?” 

“Logan.”

The man nodded again. “And we’re done here. You’re free to go.”

“Thank you.”

“And Beryl?” The girl looked at the man behind the desk. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

Beryl nodded and left the building.

Logan was waiting for Beryl in the shade of the tree he was leaning against. He had another aconite cigarette dangling between his fingers, and he was staring up at the between the leaves. The girl jogged up to him and smiled. Logan took one last drag of his cigarette and stamped it out on the ground. He pushed off of the tree and motioned for Beryl to follow him.

Logan led the ex-slave down a dirt pathway, gesturing as he talked. “So, the building you just came from is the showers. All the new recruits are brought there. Where we landed with the mounts is the landing strip, and the stables are connected to said landing strip. Nearby, and under constant watch, is the armory. New recruits aren’t allowed to go in there.” His eyes flashed over to Beryl as the dirt pathway turned to cobblestone. “That ring is the training grounds where the recruits are taught hand to hand and close combat. The building right behind it is the gym. You’ll have access to it when you start your training.” Beryl nodded her head and followed behind the man. She stopped short when a chill ran down her side, and she stared at a ditch in the ground. Logan stopped on the bridge over the ditch and raised a furry eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

Beryl shook her head and rubbed her arms. “No.” She said, and then firmer, “No, I just got cold suddenly.” She rushed over the bridge, pushing past Logan who just shook his head.

“The building we’re coming up to is the actual school. There’s two floors. You have your standard classes, which you are probably behind in, and some based in magic and the history of our group. The two taller buildings are the dorms.” He stopped his tour and turned on his heel. “Follow that pathway and it’ll take you to the ranges.” He rubbed the back of his head and grimaced. “Ah, you’ll come across a small statue surrounded by candles. We aren’t quite sure what the statue is for. There’s some writing on it, but it’s not in common.” Logan shrugged. “Don’t touch it. The last time someone did it blew up and destroyed the compound.”

Beryl nodded. “Well, this is where I leave you.” Logan said. “Your new arm should be sent up to your room soon. Ah… Diana should be here soon. She’ll take you to your room.”

“Why don’t you take me to my room?”

“Uh… no. No. I am not going in there.”

Before Beryl could ask why a gorgeous, model like woman wearing all black, with shades covering most of her face and a wide brim hat approached them. She held an umbrella that cast a shadow over her, and the only bit of skin that was showing was her face. The pretty woman smiled and offered her hand to Beryl. “Hello darling.” The woman said and dropped her hand when Beryl didn’t take it. “I am Diana. Don’t mind Logan. He’s scared of the girls.” Diana giggled, then fake whispered: “they think he’s a cutie.”

Beryl blinked and looked at Logan. The man was already fleeing the scene. “Okay!” The cheery vampire clapped her hands together. “Let’s go to your room. You can meet your new roomies. Exciting, isn’t it?”

“Uh…” Beryl started to say.

“Of course, it must be scary too. You’ve probably never left the vineyard before, being a slave and all. Oh! Sorry, ex-slave now.” Diana took Beryl’s arm and pulled the confused girl along. “You’re probably going to be exhausted after meeting all these new people.”

Beryl tuned out Diana as she was lead through the dormitory, making note of which turns they took. Finally, after three separate flights of stairs, they came to a stop. Each floor they went through seemed to have its own theme, and this one was no different. The walls were a cream and the carpet was a deep, almost wine coloured, red. Along the wall were portraits of various sizes, and each door was made out of a solid dark wood with gold accents and handle. “Well, this is where I leave you dear. Don’t worry about your roommates, they’re all just dolls.”

Beryl nodded, not willing to ask if Diana meant that her roommates were nice or if they were actual dolls. The vampire thrust paper at Beryl, speaking again. “This is your class schedule. The paper behind that is a map. It’s pretty straight forward, so you should be able to find everything. If not, don’t be afraid to ask.” Diana bent down quickly and pressed a kiss to Beryl’s cheek. “Tata!” The vampire tossed over her shoulder as she blurred down the hallway.

The ex-slave blinked and turned to face the door. She hit her fist against the solid door, the thunks vibrating deep through her body. It creaked open, showing nothing from within. “Hello?” Beryl called out and took a tentative step into the room.  _ What is it with the murder rooms in this place? _

Beryl was met with silence, so the girl shrugged and flipped on the lights. Immediately the door slammed shut and Beryl had something dumped on her head. When she looked down she saw a clear green ooze, and she made a noise of disgust. “Thanks for that,” she snapped.

The nymph sitting on the bed snickered, her pale green skin sprouting a few leaves. “Nice hit.” She giggled at the two other people behind Beryl.

Beryl shuddered at the cool ooze as it made its way down her body. The ex-slave made her way over to an obviously claimed bed and fell into it on her stomach and rolled over onto her back. She flashed a smile at her new roommates as she put her arm behind her head. “I’m Beryl.”

A noise of anger exploded out from one of her roommates. Probably the one whose bed she was currently laying on and making a mess of. “We know.” The angry one ground out between clenched teeth.

“Aren’t you going to tell me your names?”

“I’m Daisy.” The nymph smiled. “That’s Sissy and Cassandra.”

“Cool. Is this stuff going to harm me?” The green ooze was making its way off of the bed and was dripping onto the floor. With a disgusted sigh Sissy waved her hand and the ooze disappeared, along with any trace of it on the bedding and floor. “Thanks!” Beryl grinned and rolled off of the bed. “So, when do classes start?”

Her new roommates shared a look. Beryl stared at them as they had a conversation only with looks, one of her eyebrows raised. The silent conversation dragged on, and Beryl counted the seconds with each tick-tock from the clock against the wall. With a sigh she glanced at the paper in her hand. “Wait… why do I have to take a magic class?”

“Just because you’re human doesn’t mean that you’re not going to need to know how to defend yourself against it.” One of the girls scoffed.

“Who cares? She’s not going to last long enough to actually be put in the field.”

“Whoa! What do you mean by that?!” Beryl shouted, stopping anything else from being said.

The girls burst out laughing at the frightened look on the ex-slaves face. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m going to worry about it. I don’t want to die!” Beryl’s arm flew through the air, her panic increasing at a steady rate.

Her roommates burst out laughing again, and one bent over to clutch at her stomach. The nymph, still on her bed, rolled onto her back and grabbed a pillow to laugh into. Flowers bloomed across her skin and her hair twirled around, the thin vines moving on their own accord. Beryl whimpered in the back of her throat as her new roommates laughed about her potential demise.

A knock on the door broke through the girl’s mirth. All of them stared at the wooden door in silence, and the knock came again. Beryl breathed out a quiet sigh when she walked over open the door. She winces at the squeak of the hinges, desperately wishing for some oil to stop the noise.

On the other side of the door stood a meek looking human holding a gilded decorated box. “I have a size seven arm for Beryl?” He said.

Beryl raised her stump with a smile. “Pretty sure that’s me.” The slave nodded and shoved the box at her before scampering off. Beryl sighed and adjusted the box in her arm before kicking the door closed. She plopped onto the ground in front of the door and crossed her legs. The gilded decorated box laid across her legs and she popped the clasps open.

She gasped at the sight that laid before her. The arm was sturdier looking that her old one, with the plates running over it as a subtle armour. It was gold, and had a dull shine to it. She picked up the arm with gentle care and was surprised to find it feather light. A closer look to the arm showed the runes carved into the metal. She attached the arm to the gold ring around her arm and a shudder ran through her body as the nerves connected to the wires on the new arm.

As soon as the arm was attached and the nerves were settled the feeling of the feather light arm shifted so that it seemed to match the weight of her flesh arm. She rolled her shoulders and bounced to her feet. She flexed her new fingers and curled her hand into a fist. A sigh of content escaped her mouth. “So, classes?” Beryl prompted again.

“Classes are held during the evening for those who are of a more nocturnal nature.” The demon finally spoke, the seducing lull of her voice cascading through the room.

“So why are you guys even awake?”

“Because you’re an inconvenience to us all. We had to be up to greet you.” 

Beryl nodded. “And the slime?”

“Revenge. We haven’t slept at all and we’re expected to show you around and go to our classes still!” Sissy snarled.

The ex-slave blinked rapidly at the very angry witch, her body tensing. When she didn’t smell the ley line in the air her body slowly relaxed. “Well,” she started slowly, “I don’t see how that is exactly my fault.” Her body instantly tensed up when the copper-sulfur smell flooded the air. “Besides. I’m here now. You can sleep. Some sleep is better than no sleep, right?”

The nymph placed a hand on Sissy’s arm, distracting the witch and making her lose her hold on the ley line. Cassandra snorted. “Sissy here is the only one who actually sleeps. Daisy photosynthesises and doesn’t need to sleep, and I don’t sleep.”

“You’re a weak one, Miss Witch.” Daisy giggled, and the witch threw a glare at the vine covered nymph.

Sissy yanked her arm out from under Daisy’s hand and stalked over to the bed Beryl had previously been laying on. Daisy pouted when the witch rolled into the bed and pulled the blankets with her. Sissy rolled until the blankets covered her, and with an angry screech at the giggles from Cassandra and Daisy, yanked the blanket over her head.

Beryl watched the exchange, a frown tugging on her lips. She was suddenly struck with an aching hole in her heart, the hole widening even more as she remembered doing the exact same thing to Fern and Johnny when she was sick.  _ I miss them. Which is silly; I haven’t even been gone a day. _ Beryl blinked rapidly and felt her throat close. She tore her gaze away from the trio in front of her. “So, uh,” Beryl stopped and swallowed, trying to stop the hitching in her voice, “Which bed is mine?”

The demon and nymph turned on her in a heartbeat, both hearing the hitch. “You don’t get a bed.” Cassandra snapped.

“But there are four of them?  One of them is clearly not claimed.”

“Well, the one by the window is Daisy’s, Sissy is in hers, and the one by the wall is mine.”

“But… what about that one?” Beryl jerked a finger to the bed above Cassandra’s. 

“Didn’t you listen to what she just said?” Daisy snapped. “That one is Cassandra’s.”

“Why does she need two beds?”

Beryl shrieked when the demon’s hand darted out and grabbed her chin. Cassandra shifted her hand so that it rested at the joint of Beryl’s jaw. Cassandra squeezed until Beryl’s jaw fell open, and a whine escaped the ex-slaves throat. Cassandra leaned in close and hissed: “Slaves don’t get beds. Slaves sleep on the floor.”

The demon held onto Beryl’s jaw for a few more moments before tossing her away.  Beryl flew through the air and smacked against the wall. Sliding to the floor and tucking her legs against her body, Beryl hugged herself and her wide eyes tracked her new roommates as they moved around the room.

Beryl stayed tightly coiled against the wall she was thrown at even as she watched the shadows change around the room and it finally grow dark.

***

She found her magic class without the help of her roommates or anyone else. Her eyes were sore and dry, and she felt numb to the others around her. Everywhere she went she heard the taunts and whispers and snickers from the other students around her.  _ Don’t let them know that they’re getting to you. _ She repeated to herself.  _ They’ll leave you alone if you don’t let them know that they’re getting to you. _

Her magic class looked like every other classroom she had ever been in, which surprised her. She had expected cauldrons bubbling and a dimly lit room. Instead the fluorescent lights were unnaturally bright, and the tables acting as desks had permanent metal fixtures in the center on the table. Each table looked like it could hold two people. The white boards at the front of the classroom had notes from the previous class still on the board. In the front of the classroom was a slightly raised wooden stage, spanning the width of the room, and stopping just in front of the first row of tables.

Beryl’s eyes darted around the classroom, skipping over the students of all ages and races.  _ I’m the only human _ , Beryl realised with raised eyebrows,  _ I thought there would be more _ . Her eyes rested on a Disir, the slightly glowing female sitting at a desk placed at the back of the room.

“Hello?” Beryl spoke softly when she approached the spirit, eyes cast down. The spirit made no noise as she looked up at the ex-slave, the pupil-less eyes blinking once. “I’m Beryl, the new student.”

The Disir smiled suddenly and, with a flash of movement Beryl suddenly had her arms full of paper and a leather sack. The spirit pushed Beryl towards an empty chair directly in front of the desk the Disir was sitting at. Her hands started to gesture with quick, precise movements.

“Hello Beryl. I’ll be your teacher for the Art of Magic. Now, since you can’t do magic you’ll sit here and watch. Memorize the types of magic and what they’re used for.”

“Thanks.” Beryl gave a small smile and looked at the paper in her hands. The two columns held figures in sharp lines and what each of them meant.  _ These are runes _ , Beryl jolted,  _ I didn’t even know runes could be used as a combat magic _ . There had been rune-workers at the vineyard before, installing a new security system to protect the wares.

The Disir floated to the front of the room when a shrill bell cut through the air. The spirit addressed her students, and Beryl slowly turned to her new notes. Dimly, she registered the sounds of magic being thrown through the air, but her eyes focused on the pages and pages of notes in front of her. Her eyes flickered, darting over the ink and pausing over words she didn’t know.

_ There are different types of magic that can be used for magic. The first, and most common type of magic is the magic drawn from the ley lines. Ley lines can only be drawn upon by witches and demons, and drawing upon ley line magic damages the earth. There is a distinct smell to ley line magic: a mixture of sulfur and copper will flood the senses. There is no need for spoken word to invoke a spell when using ley line magic, and, as such, the only true tell for ley line magic is the scent. Those who fight with ley lie magic have strong spells that hit fast, but the lasting effect is small. To choose what element the spell is to be the caster only has to think about the element; to choose the effect of the spell the caster only has to think about the effect. Combining the two makes ley line magic diverse and usable in everyday situations. However, ley line magic has no defensive spells, and the only way to not get struck by the magic is to either dodge it or to throw a spell of the opposing element but same effect of it. _

_ The second type of magic is Fey Court magic (also known as natural magic). Only usable by those who are in the Fey Courts (or have Fey Court lineage) Fey Court magic varies by pantheon and species. While not much is known about the magic of the Fey because of the secrecy of the Courts, it is known that there is a general magic amongst all the Courts, and that the Gods have their own special abilities which can be passed along to their offspring. Fey Court magic has both offensive and defensive spells, but the casting takes longer. While not as strong as ley line magic, the effects of Fey Court magic are longer lasting. _

_ The third type of magic is that of runes. While runes are mostly used to set spells into objects, they can be used as a form of combat magic. Rune magic is a rare type of combat magic, and is focused mainly on defensive and support spells. In order to use rune magic one must trace the rune in the air as if you were writing on paper and push against the traced rune to activate it. Rune magic, when traced into the air, leaves a glowing mark, making it easy to tell which spell is being used and easy to counter. The length of the spell depends on the spell being used, and it is rumored that some of the spells are never ending. However, only the gods of the Norse pantheon in the Fey Court and their offspring can use rune magic. When it comes to rune work it has to be done by a dwarf of the Norse pantheon. _

Beryl’s eyes flickered down the list of runes under the introductory page of notes, trying to find the ones that matched her arm. The thick lines of the drawn runes seemed to glimmer a light blue every so often, except for one. The golden gleam of the ink drew her eyes, and, without knowing what she was doing, Beryl began to trace in the air.  The Thurisaz rune, a pointed capital ‘p’, started to glow in the air. Each pass she did made the golden glow stronger until, with a flick of her wrist, the rune rushed through the air.

Beryl’s eyes snapped away from her notes at the sound of glass breaking as the fire ley line spell smashed against the barrier that she had thrown. The trace of the rune still shimmered in front of her, and her arm was still partially raised. The Disir stared at Beryl with her eyebrows raised. “What did you do?” The Disir signed, her movements stiff and fast.

“I… I don’t know.” Beryl stammered, shrinking into her seat. Every eye was on her and the glowing rune.  

Whispers ran through the classroom, and the Disir sighed. “Class dismissed. Beryl, the Guildmaster will be hearing of this.”

As one motion the class packed up their bags. Beryl gathered her notes and the leather pouch in her hands. Cheeks red, she rushed out of the classroom, eyes downcast. The Disir watched her go with curious eyes, her hands working out a quick note to be sent to the Guildmaster.

***

After Magic came Poisons and Grenades, a class taught by a kooky looking dwarf. In similar fashion to the Art of Magic, notes and various objects were shoved into her arms, and she was given firm instructions to not interfere with the teaching of the class and to catch up using the notes. After Poisons and Grenades came History and Politics, taught by Diana. The vampire took pity on Beryl and her full arms and handed Beryl a bag with a toothy grin and a wink. Lunch came next, with the whispers and eyes following her every move. There was a small break after lunch which allowed her to find the nearest bathroom and cry as quietly as she can in the stall. The break ended too soon and pulled her into the Basic Introduction to the Guardians class, taught by another werewolf. Again, she was handed notes to catch up with, and again she was left to her own devices.

The final class, according to her schedule, was Combat Training. The bag that Diana gave her rested heavy on her shoulders, but Beryl smiled at the sight of Logan. The gruff werewolf raised an eyebrow at Beryl when she came in late, but continued along with what he was saying. “Stephano!” Logan called out when the students started to split into pairs. “You’ll be helping Beryl get caught up with the rest of the class. Get her caught up on the basics about what training we do here. The rest of you lot, I’m going for a smoke. Don’t fucking break anything while I’m out.” With that Logan left the class to their own devices.

Beryl dropped her bag onto the ground with a sigh and rolled her shoulders. An elf around her age with broad shoulders, cheekbones to die for, and shoulder-length dark brown hair cleared his throat. “I’m Stephano. I’m assuming that you’re Beryl, going by the smell.” Stephano wrinkled his nose as he looked down at Beryl.

“You know, seeing as you’re the only person who approached me it was safe to say that you’re Stephano. Thanks for introducing yourself, though. You’ve officially done more than a majority of the people I’ve met. Could have done without the comment about how I smell.”

Stephano snorted and rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t an insult about you, just what you are. Humans smell disgusting.”

Beryl shuffled on her feet and puffed out her cheeks. “Can we just get this over and done with?”

“There are three types of combat that are taught here, and usually done by Logan. Seeing as there’s a full moon coming up in three days he’s been a bit stressed so I’m left in charge of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the best in the class. Don’t interrupt me again.” He glared at Beryl when she opened her mouth. There was an audible click when her jaw snapped closed. “There are three types of combat taught here. Hand to hand - which is what I’ll be showing you the basics of - long ranged, and short ranged. Long ranged obviously deals with different types of guns and other ranged weapons. Short ranged is fighting with swords, daggers, and anything that falls along those lines.”

Beryl nodded to what Stephano had said. When she was sure he wasn’t going to continue on she asked: “When do I learn about the other types of combat?”

“When we have those training days scheduled. Now, stand sideways, legs shoulder length apart and slightly bend your knees. No, not that much.” Stephano adjusted Beryl’s body until she stood the way he wanted her to. “Now, when you’re throwing a punch make sure that your thumb isn’t tucked into your fist, or you’ll break it. Are you right handed or left handed?” Stephano sighed at the blank look on the girls face. “Which is your dominant hand?” He groaned when she still stared blankly at him. “Which hand do you write with?”

“Oh. Oh! Uh…” Beryl shrugged. “Either really. I prefer my not metal arm though. Seeing as it’s less likely to be removed. But I can write with either.”

“Of course you’d be ambidextrous.” Stephano groaned under his breath. “You couldn’t have been easy to train. No. You had to make things harder.”

Beryl just blinked at him and shifted on her feet, pushing her weight back and forth. “Why does me being… ambidextrous,” she tested the new word in her mouth, the last syllable of the word being a higher pitch, “make things harder for you?”

Stephano rolled his eyes. “It just does.” He put his hands on his hips. “Now, when you throw a punch, make sure you use your body. Put your weight behind it, and include your hips. You don’t just push out your arm.”

Beryl tried to do as Stephano said when he stopped talking. “This is stupid,” she muttered.

“What’s stupid?”

“Just… this. Me. Fighting. This is stupid. I look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“Yes, well, there is a reason why you’re not going to last as a Guardian. You’re weak. You should have been culled as soon as you were chosen by your dragon. If you feel stupid it’s because you are stupid. Dumb like the mount that chose you.”

Beryl stared at Stephano, eyebrows raised. “Why do people keep saying that I’m going to die?”

Stephano just stared at her. “Try throwing the punch again. You didn’t use your hips.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.” She swung once more, and Stephano sighed.

Beryl groaned and rolled her shoulders. “Show me?” She asked. Stephano nodded. His arm swung through the air, and his fist connected with Beryl’s cheek.

Beryl’s head snapped to the side, and purple flooded her vision before clearing away. Her breathing came in harsh breaths, and everything seemed sharper. Her fist clenched tight and, with a snarl, she swung. Stephano’s head snapped to the side and he stumbled back.

Beryl tackled Stephano to the ground and started swinging. Stephano blocked the frantic fists as well as he could before he drove his fist into her side and flipped them. Beryl screamed, though it came out garbled, and tried to dislodge Stephano.

Beryl’s scream was echoed by a growl, and Stephano rolled off of Beryl before he was thrown off. Beryl lunged after the elf, only to be grabbed by throat and tossed onto the ground again. Her head smacked against the slightly padded flooring. Her legs pushed at the ground and her hands clawed at the hand on her throat. A voice cut through the rage in her mind, and she dimly registered that it was Logan telling Stephano to get out. She still fought against Logan, even as she became more aware that she wasn’t controlling her body. The floated voice came back, and Logan’s fist connected with the bridge of her nose. She heard the crunch of her nose and her vision went.

***

For the second time in a day, Beryl woke up in a hospital room. She pushed herself into a sitting position, and groaned when her head throbbed. Her hands pushed against the skin of her face, squishing her cheeks.

“How are you doing?”

Beryl jumped, her head snapping to the side. Instantly her eyes squeezed shut, and she grabbed her head again. “I feel like my head is about to explode.” She opened her eyes again. “What are you doing here Stephano?”

“I wanted to know if you were awake yet. Logan had to go deal with something, and Diana is busy. Seeing as they’re both in charge of your schooling, they’re both in charge of disciplining you. But, again, they're unavailable.”

“What happened?”

Stephano handed a glass of water to Beryl. “Your beast took control. You should have better control over that. Even if you are new.”

Beryl sipped the water, the liquid cool going down her throat. “I have no idea what that means. Better control? Beast taking over my body?”

“How do you not have better mental control? How do you stop others from controlling you a day to day basis? Demons and witches don’t give out their real names. Fey are trained from birth to not let others control us.”

“Why would anyone want to control a human? Why can my dragon do that?”

“Being chosen for the Guardians isn’t just the beast choosing you to fly it. It’s a bond. You get certain abilities depending on the beast, and, in turn, the beast becomes less ruled by instinct.”

“But they still have their instinct? And, again. Why can my dragon take control over me?”

“Yes. The beast wouldn’t lose its instincts in a fight. They keep those instincts because it’s still valuable. They just have the added benefit of logical thought.” Stephano grew silent and leaned back in his chair.

“Are you ever going to answer my full question?”

“Only when you give me something in return. You owe me now.”

The cup slipped out of her hand and bounced on the medical bed, the unfinished water spilling and soaking through the sheets. “I owe you?” She whispered.

Stephano smirked and crossed his legs. “You owe me.”

Beryl picked the cup off of the bed and swung her legs over the edge. Gaze locked onto the ground and her swinging legs, she asked, “What do I owe you?”

His grin grew. “You’ll find out. Now, come on. I’ve been told to take you to the Guildmaster. As it is, we’re already late, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He tugged Beryl off of the bed and dragged her out of the room.

***

The hulking figure sitting at the desk sighed when Beryl was shoved into the room. “Stephano, get in here,” the figure growled before Stephano could fully close the door. Stephano sighed and slunk into the room.

The door slammed shut and Beryl jumped. She jumped again when the figure at the desk spoke. “You have only been here for one day, and I’m already hearing about you. Usually humans try to stay out of sight before their ultimate demise.”

“I’m… sorry?” Beryl tried.

“Save it.” The figure snorted. “I am Lucifer, but you will refer to me as Guildmaster.” As Lucifer spoke the dark room began to fill with light, each of the oil lamps flickering to life. Beryl stared. Lucifer’s six wings were pressed tight against his body, the top pair draped over his shoulders giving him a slightly hunchback appearance. His entire body was covered in sleek black feathers, with the exception of his face, where the feathers only started at his brows and circled his face to end at a sleek point at the top of his head. There were no pronounced features on his face, having two slits for a nose and no truly defined lips.  _ Does he have no ears? _ His eyes were a solid violet, and his skin a deep purple. A pair of horns curled around his face. “Because of you I had to send a formal request to the Norse Court of the Fey, and now I’m hearing that you lost control of your bond and your dragon took over. Both Logan and Diana have been called away, so now I’m left to give you your punishment. For the next two months you’ll be cleaning the mess hall.”

Beryl nodded and locked her eyes to the tiny legs of the desk. Beside her Stephano snickered. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed in response. “Stephano, over the course of Beryl’s punishment you are to supervise her.”

“Yes, sir.”

Suddenly the giant wooden doors burst open, causing two of the room’s three occupants to jump. Almost immediately Lucifer groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “You educated flea,” he groaned, “Did you have to break down my door,  _ again _ ?”

“I need your help and you’re ignoring my calls.”

“Did you ever happen to think that I might be busy?” Each of the feathers covering his body ruffled, causing Lucifer to fluff up. “What do you want, Asmodeus?”

Asmodeus smiled widely, his perfect teeth showing. “There’s an issue at the brothel.”

The feathers on Lucifer’s face shifted, mimicking the raising of an eyebrow. “An actual issue, or is this your attempt to have me enter a brothel again?”

“Actual issue. Apollo is angry, and I sure as shit am not facing him alone.”

Lucifer sighed and stood. Beryl shrank back into her chair as the fallen angel rose from his chair. “Stephano, Beryl, you’re both dismissed.” He swept out of the room.

Beryl turned to Stephano. “What’s a brothel?” She reddened as the echo of laughter entered the room from the hallway.

Stephano just cast his eyes skyward.

***

“Hurry up, I want to get to my dorm and sleep.”

Beryl shot a glare at Stephano and jerked the broom across the floor. “I’m almost done. All I have to do is dump the dustbin and take out the garbage.”

Stephano rolled his eyes and Beryl banged the dustbin against the garbage bin before reconnecting it to the broom. “Make yourself useful and put this away while I tie up the bags.” She tossed the broom in Stephano’s general direction. The elf snatched the broom out of the air and hopped off the table top. Beryl watched him saunter out of the room as she tied off the tops of the bags.

“C’mon,” she muttered and braced the bin between her legs as she pulled at the bag. With a  _ whoosh  _ the plastic bag slid free from the bin and the bin dropped to the floor of the mess hall. She glared at the four remaining bins and dropped the bag she was holding onto the floor. She sighed.

Stephano returned by the time she pulled out the last bag. He grabbed the three on the floor with no trouble and tossed them over his shoulder. He kicked open the door and lead Beryl to the giant metal dumpster bins. “I’m heading back to my room.” He dropped the bags onto the ground, and turned on his heel to stalk off into the fading dark.  _ Might as well follow his lead _ . The garbage bags bounced against each other as Beryl threw them in with one hand, the other holding open the lid. The bin slammed shut with an echoing bang.

Beryl pulled her arms back, sighing in pleasure at the cracks running up her spine. Her feet followed the path up to female dorms.  _ I just want to sleep… _ Shivers racked her body, and her hand missed the door knob the first try she made for it.

The gold knob jiggled back and forth, but wouldn’t turn.  _ You have got be kidding me _ . She tried the knob again.  _ No _ … _ no, no, no, no, no! _ Beryl kicked the door, tears rolling down her face as she gave a closed off scream.

***

Amethustos chirped at the sound of his stable door opening, his large ears perking up. Beryl stood on shaky feet in the frame, one hand holding the door away from her body. Slowly, her feet dragged through the hay scattered on the floor. Her bag slid off of her shoulder and landed with a thump on the ground and opened, papers sliding out. “Hey…” Beryl trailed off, breath hitching. Almost immediately Amethustos lifted his wing as high as he could without hitting the ceiling with a deep purr filling the stable. His tail slipped over the floor, hay catching in the line of fur that started at his shoulders and trailed down to the tip of tail, ending in a poof. Beryl collapsed against his side and buried her face into his soft fur, sobs escaping her body. The purring softened, but didn’t stop, as Amethustos’ wing closed over her shaking form and his tail curled up around her. 

The sun peeked over the stables, painting the sky. Amethustos kept his eyes on the stable door, growling when the handlers tried to remove Beryl from his side. Eventually, the handlers let the exhausted girl sleep.


	3. Mariska

Mariska blinked as the blood splattered her face and body. The incubus trying to stop the angry god from taking her had exploded into a fine mist; unfortunately, Mariska was close enough that she was covered. Her client – a vampire who left a litter of bite marks down her neck and across her shoulders – laid dead beside her, his ribs pulled apart revealing his insides and his face an unrecognizable mess of boils. “She’s mine!” Apollo roared, back handing a succubus to the side.

 “Apollo, darling, this is my job. I do not belong to you, and, quite frankly, possessive does not look good on you. Now will you please stop killing my owners and come back in with an appointment? You’ll have my undivided attention then.”

 Apollo’s wild eyes turned onto Mariska, and he started to glow. “You’re mine.” He snarled, spit flying from his lips. There was a wave of his hand.

Mariska screeched as her arms were jerked back, popping noises filling the air as her arms dislocated at the shoulders, elbows, and wrists. Her ribs crushed towards the centre of her body, and her legs fused together. Within a matter of seconds Mariska was turned into a lantern flower, her soul and mind glowing behind four purple petals forming a cage. _Well, this is horrible_.

Apollo lifted Mariska gently, caressing her new stem and petals with a coo. “Mine,” he whispered.

_Gross._ She responded, the orb - her soul - rattling around and blinking rapidly.

Apollo hummed as he turned on his heel and marched out the door, not even pausing as he killed the remaining demons in the room with an explosive tilt of his head. _Oh, it is going to take forever to get that out of the sheets and off the walls. They’re probably going to just demolish my room_.

“Apollo, this why you aren’t allowed in the brothels anymore. Can you please stop turning my slaves into flowers and put Mariska back?”

_Can you please pronounce my name right, Asmodeus?_

“She’s mine.”

Asmodeus sighed and carded his hands through his blonde hair. “Well, unless you actually bought her, which I know you didn’t, she’s mine. Now. Put her down.” Asmodeus flexed his fingers, and Apollo’s gaze flickered over to him.

“You going to fight me, baby demon?”

“Not alone,” Asmodeus snorted and smirked. “I’m not stupid.”

Lucifer dropped from the ceiling, leaving a hole in the roof. His wings were spread wide in a threatening display.

Apollo snarled, more spit flying from his lips, and shot his arm out. The two Deadly Sins split apart as the darted away from the magic thrown at them, and the wall behind them crumpled. There was a scream from another slave before he fled. _Well, Jim’s going to have nightmares. Also, this brothel is going to fall apart._

Apollo dropped Mariska onto the ground, and her soul rattled around in the petal cage. _That hurt, you prick!_

She watched the two demons and the god strike at each with a wary eye. _Though, there is nothing I can do if they step on me. I suppose as long as my soul is kept intact that there shouldn’t be an issue, but the rest of this stupid flower is my body._ Her soul flickered wildly. _Please don’t step on me. I don’t want to be broken!_

Asmodeus was tossed into the rubble of the wall, his spine bending in half over a piece of it and spearing through his chest. “I’m fine,” he coughed out, blood splattering onto his face from his mouth. “Nothing I can’t heal from.”

Lucifer let out a deep snarl and grabbed Apollo by the throat. A bird-like hiss escaped him as the flesh and feathers on his hand burned from Apollo’s raised body temperature. Lucifer lifted Apollo into the air with ease and slammed him into the marble floor with enough force to crack it and cause shards go flying into the air.

Apollo let out a shout and grabbed at the hand on his throat. Lucifer hissed in his face and his hand squeezed. Mariska couldn’t make out what was said after because it was so garbled. Whatever it was caused Apollo to blanch and, with a light bright enough to fill the room, disappeared.

Lucifer let out another angry hiss, but the feathers making up the pointed crown of his head smoothed out and his wings shook twice before flattening. _He’s kind of cute_. Mariska watched him stalk to Asmodeus and yanked the lust demon off of the wall he was impaled on.

Asmodeus patted Lucifer on the back as the demon’s bones and muscles mended. “Well, that could have gone better. Thanks for your help, Luci.”

“It’s Lucifer.”

“That’s what I said. Hey!” Asmodeus jogged over to where Mariska was laying. “He left the flower!”

Mariska bobbed around in her petal cage, her soul rapidly shifting in brightness. Asmodeus scooped her up and the roots in place of her feet curled around his hand. _Asmodeus would you kindly go walk into a volcano? You were supposed to fix me, not go: “Oooh! A pretty flower!”_

Lucifer blinked at Asmodeus as the Lust demon cooed at the flower in his hand. He could sense the anger wafting off of the flower, thick like molasses. “Give that to me.”

Asmodeus glanced at Lucifer, his deep blue eyes twinkling. “You sure you want it? That’ll cost you around a thousand lucre for the hour.”

Lucifer glared at Asmodeus. “It’s currently a flower.”

Asmodeus hummed. “True. Can you change it back?”

Lucifer opened his hand and wiggled his fingers impatiently. “Let’s find out. Fae magic is a fickle thing.”

Asmodeus scraped Mariska off of his palm, and she tumbled into Lucifer’s waiting hand. Once more the roots wrapped around the hand. He flinched at the sudden onslaught of anger and words that came tumbling into his mind. _It? IT? Asmodeus you insufferable useless sack of meat - and I use that kindly - I am not an it! My name is Mariska, not Mareeska, like how you pronounce it. Mah-rih-shkah! But you’re so self-absorbed that you can’t even do something as simple as pronouncing a name right! Maybe you’ll fucking learn how to pronounce a name if we start calling you by something that isn’t your name. How about Mo? Would you like that? That’s what I’m going to call you from now on: Mo!_

Lucifer smirked, a quick huff of breath coming out of his mouth. “You’ve made Mariska angry.”

“You can hear what she’s saying?”

“You can’t?”

_Stop your posturing and turn me back already!_

Lucifer closed his eyes, the hand resting at his side lightly tracing the _Gebo_ rune into his thigh. Mariska felt a tingle run through her, and her soul glowed bright enough to fill the room. _What’s happening?_

Lucifer opened his eyes, and Mariska floated around, her soul and mind still an orb.

_It didn’t work._

"It didn’t work.” Asmodeus blew a kiss at Lucifer as he spoke.

Lucifer snarled in response. “Fucking Fae magic.”

Asmodeus hummed again and walked in a slow circle around Lucifer. “Well, she’s useless to me now. Unless we can get something to change her back. Break the curse, so to speak.”

“Or we can wait for it to wear off.”

_You look like a lion stalking its prey, Mo, darling. Stop it._

Asmodeus stopped in front of Lucifer. “Who knows how long that’ll take?” He said, with a wave of his hand, as if he was trying to shoo away the physical form of Lucifer’s suggestion. “You should take her!”

“No.”

“Yes, c’mon, Luci. This way I know she’ll be safe until I can get the court to change her back!”

“No.”

“Please, Luci?” Asmodeus whined. “You’re the only one strong enough to do it.”

The feathers on the cone of Lucifer’s head perked up, and Asmodeus resisted a smirk. “Please, Luci? Please? Apollo wouldn’t dare to challenge you again because he knows how much stronger you are than him.”

“Fine, but only because I want you to shut up.”

_If I had eyes, I would be rolling them._

Asmodeus gave a grin. “Great! No off you go! I have to rebuild my brothel, _again_.”

Lucifer’s six wings opened wide, and, with a sharp grin, he took flight, taking another chunk out of the ceiling.

 

***

The lull of moving up and down with each beat of Lucifer’s giant wings put Mariska to sleep. The sun was starting to set when the landing jolted Mariska awake, her soul hitting one of the purple petals with a chime. _Demonic donkey balls!_

Lucifer smirked, lips pulling away from his teeth and let out a snicker. “That’s creative.”

_Well, gorgeous, I’m a very creative person. In more than just one way._ Mariska watched as Lucifer tilted his head, a silver tint painting his cheeks. _You’re very pretty when you blush._

“I’ve agreed to take home the human, female version of Asmodeus, haven’t I?” Lucifer’s long legs carried him up a beaten path, the Guardian faction slowly appearing ahead.

Mariska giggled, making kissy noises at Lucifer. The fallen angel just stared at her, baffled by how she could do that.

_Where are we?_

“We are currently under the dominion of a combination of the Norse court and another. Really old, doesn’t have a name, but played a large part in founding this part of the world from the savages that it was.”

_You could have just said that we are in North-Western Europe, doll._

“But where is the fun in that?”

_So, I’m not longer under dominion of the Greek court then?_

“That’s right. You’re safe from Apollo for now. He’s the god of education for a failed civilization; clearly, he’s not that bright. However, even he isn’t stupid enough to go crossing courts without an invitation.”

_You’re talking about Apollo. I’ve literally heard him say “sure as the sun rises, love will find a way.”_

There was a pause before Lucifer replied: “Fair enough.”

The gates to the faction remained closed, even as they approached. Mariska watched as the guards in the towers kept watch over the area, dressed in what looked like a military uniform of the old world. Lucifer opened his wings wide and gave a jump, easily clearing the gate; his open wings helped soften the landing on the other side. He continued to follow the path until he came to a backdoor with a security rune carved into it. Mariska watched, bobbing up and down in her petal cage, as Lucifer made the necessary hand motions to open it. _What is this place?_

“The Guardian compound under this dominion.”

_Why are we here?_

“Because I still have work to do.”

The backdoor led to a winding set of stairs, which trailed up to a trap door, which opened up to an office. _Doll that is a rather unnecessarily complex way to get to an office._

“I value my privacy.”

_Maybe I can be a part of your privacy._

Lucifer let out a small groan, and Mariska glowed slightly brighter. “I also value silence.”

_Hey! Wait! What are you doing?_ Lucifer gave a small sigh as he dropped Mariska onto the top of the desk. The connection between the two broke, leaving Lucifer to his own thoughts. Mariska’s soul drifted to the bottom of the petals, sulking, and watched Lucifer pick up a pen. _You better be writing to the Greek court. I don’t want to a flower for much longer. I miss having legs!_ Her roots flexed across the smooth wood, trying to find purchase to pull herself back to Lucifer.

The stilling of the pen on thick paper drew her attention. She watched as Lucifer sat back, wings drawing over his shoulders. He folded the paper twice and leaned back in the giant chair to grab a stick of deep purple wax and stamp off of the shelf behind him. When he leaned towards his desk again a steady flame rose from his thumb. The melted wax dripped onto the paper and quickly Lucifer pressed the stamp into it. He held it there for a moment before pulling it away.

_What’s that? C’mon, Lucifer, doll. Pick me back up. I miss talking to you._ One of her roots managed to snag a paperweight on the desk and tugged. She shot across the smooth surface. Her roots untangled themselves from the heavy weight as she went over the edge of the desk.

_WAAah- oh_. Mariska curled her roots around the warm palm of Lucifer’s hand.

“What, exactly, were you trying to do?”

All you need to know is that everything happened according to the plan. Mariska laughed, and the noise echoed through the room, a tinkling noise, almost like crystal shattering on the ground. _As sharp sounding as that was, it still sounds better than my actual laugh._

“Is your actual laugh bad?”

_Doll, I sound like a dying donkey’s final bray. It is not a pretty noise, and I am not ashamed to admit that I am pleased that I rarely have a chance to laugh._

“Yes, I’m sure that’s because you’re usually too busy faking a moan.”

_Gasp. Did you just tell a joke? And here I was, concerned that Asmodeus was right about something for once in his life._

Lucifer let out a snort, feathers ruffling. He leaned back in the chair, leather creaking, and plucked a book off of the shelf. He crossed his legs and flipped open the book, landing on the folded page where he had left off. Mariska used her roots to pull herself up Lucifer’s arm, every-so-often accidentally tugging out a feather. Lucifer didn’t seem to mind, or he didn’t notice, and when Mariska settled on his shoulder she figured out how to control the petal cage to lean against Lucifer’s neck. She let her soul-orb settle against the feathers there, and sighed. _Read to me doll?_

Lucifer was silent for a moment before he opened his mouth. His voice flowed, and even though Mariska didn’t know what he was saying, she could feel the emotion of lost love swimming through the words.


End file.
